


Scott-Specter

by FrivolousSuits



Series: The Scott-Specter Partnership [1]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrivolousSuits/pseuds/FrivolousSuits
Summary: “You lied to me.”Harvey stops still. “About what?”“Are there multiple possibilities?”“Scottie, I’m not going to play your games, so either you tell me straight–”“It’s not one year to to date your therapist, it's two.” Her voice rises as she adds, “Which is still fifty years too short, but that aside–”“I don’t need this right now,” he breaks in.“I didn’t need you to lie to me,” she retorts, “and yet here we are.”





	Scott-Specter

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't a fan of how the show handled Scottie's latest appearance, so I tried to fix both the timeline weirdness and the Scottie & Harvey friendship! Harvey could really use some good friends at the moment.

After the wedding Harvey drags himself back to his apartment, worn out, tempted to never care about anything ever again.

Scottie’s waiting outside his door. Without preamble, she says, “You lied to me.”

He stops still. “About what?”

“Are there multiple possibilities?” she spits.

“Scottie, I’m not going to play your games, so either you tell me straight–”

“It’s not one year to to date your therapist, it's two.” Her voice rises as she adds, “Which is still fifty years too short, but that aside–”

“I don’t need this right now,” he breaks in.

“I didn’t need you to lie to me,” she retorts, “and yet here we are.”

He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “What are you even doing here?”

“You lied to me. About something that I could figure out with a ten-second Google search.”

“And?”

“And I know you can do better than that, Harvey.”

He sags forward, bracing himself against the door. “If you’re just going to make accusations, I don’t need you.”

“Then forget the accusations.” She raises her chin and speaks, simply but without sting. “You lied to me, in an obvious and sloppy way that I caught immediately, and I want to know what’s wrong.”

Seconds pass. Finally, under his breath he mutters, " _What?_ "

“You can do better,” she enunciates, not unkindly. “You were completely off your game, and I want to know why.”

He snaps.

“ _You_ lied,” he says, wheeling around to face her. “You lied when you told that jury Pearson Specter damaged you, you know full well Huntley and his goddamn murder charge was a hundred times worse –”

“Yes,” she cuts him off.

“Why the hell would you do that to me?”

“You can’t work it out?”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I was an easy target. Jessica just went down for fraud, you needed a scapegoat.”

“Close,” she says, her voice strangely gentle. “I needed a scapegoat, Jessica just went down for fraud, and _Pearson_ was an easy target. Pearson, not Specter. And I’m not apologizing, but if I had known _you_ would get this much backlash, I would have just lost the damn case.”

He doesn’t reply.

“What’s wrong?”

“You want the itemized list?” he asks, voice sarcastic and dull all at once.

“Hit me.”

“Tomorrow Specter Litt will be reorganized as Zane Specter Litt.”

She visibly flinches. _“_ Wait, _what?”_

“Mike just gave me one hour notice. He’s taken a job bringing down Fortune 500 companies with class-actions.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Louis Litt just broke up an engagement, and he wants to know that I approve,” Harvey mutters, his head now resting against his door. “And I think Jessica’s going to get herself killed in Chicago.”

Scottie just gapes at him for a second before observing, “I think we need a drink.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“I did actually just mean a drink.”

“Yeah?” He glances at her, eyebrow raised.

She deadpans, “I like you for victory sex, and somehow that’s not the mood.”

That startles a smile out of him, a real smile, and she beams back.

* * *

He pours her the Macallan 18, and Scottie gives him a smile of appreciation; though she’s never gotten what’s so special about this particular scotch, she knows it matters to him. She sips it while curling up on his living room sofa, shoes off, feet up. He sits down on the table’s opposite side.

“Why’d you lie to me this time?” she asks, tone conversational.

“You don’t know?”

“I have my speculation, but I want to know your take.”

He nods and takes a long, drawn-out sip; she knows he’s stalling, but she doesn’t call him on it. “I thought you might still retract your statement.” She nods slowly, and he continues, “Your issue with me was always that I couldn’t commit. I figured if I told you that I waited a full two years to date a woman, it’d make you even angrier.”

Scottie blinks. “I don’t think your problem is commitment. Not really.”

“Really?”

“I didn’t doubt your commitment to me,” she muses, running a finger along the rim of her glass. “I knew you weren’t cheating on me. But it still felt like you were playing games.”

“The fraud.”

“The fraud.” She shakes her head and sighs. “And believe it or not, I’m sick of games.”

“Yeah?”

She knows the skeptical look in his eyes. “Okay, what is it?”

“You asked if Donna had something to do with my breakup. I asked why you thought that. You then told me that was all you needed to know. It was very cryptic.”

“I think you know what game I was playing there.”

“My best guess is that you think I’m destined to be with Donna and so it’s inevitable that all other relationships will fall by the wayside.”

Scottie just responds with a look, a perfect wide-eyed scowl that she holds until he chuckles, insisting, “People do think that. Mike sat me down and spelled it out for me.”

“Well,” she says, “now I understand why he quit.”

“Yeah?”

“His judgement _sucks_.”

He snickers. “The real problem is Donna thinks it too. You know what she said about you?”

“Do tell.” She scoots forward to sit on the edge of her seat.

“Wait,” he backtracks, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Scottie’s smile fades, and she tilts her head. “I can take it.”

“I told her I didn’t want to go beg you for another favor. She tried to comfort me by saying that you’re not the only person I only go to when I need help–” he stumbles for a moment– “you’re just the only one who makes me feel bad about it.”

She hears him out with a stony poker face. “I assume you read the subtext.”

“Yeah, she’s really just reminding me how she gets me whatever I want, whenever I want it,” he says, his voice a deadened monotone.

“And how did that feel?”

He gives her an odd look. “What are you, my therapist?”

“Apparently you’re into that,” she retorts without missing a beat.

He cracks a smile. “You know, even my ex– therapist– whatever, accused me of projecting feelings for Donna onto her.”

“Were you?”

“Subtle.” He shakes his head. “But no. Look, the one thing we established in therapy was that I project feelings for my _mother_ onto Donna.”

“Well, then.” Scottie raises both eyebrows.

“What?”

“We should not have sex more often, I’m learning so much about your kinks.”

“Oh my god. . .” After failing to formulate a proper response, he flips her off, and she grins in return.

At that moment her phone gives a beep, and she pulls it out.

“A client?”

“Of course. It’s one o’clock, normal business hours, right?” They share a chuckle. “Look, I have to take this, but I just want you to know that I do really care about you. And when things go wrong I’m here to talk.”

She knows it’s a sign of how bad he’s hurting that he doesn’t brush her off, instead replying, “Same here.”

“We were friends before the benefits, weren’t we?” she ventures. “Back when you helped me with cite checking that damn Review article.”

“I just did that to get in your pants,” he replies instantaneously.

She gives him a gentle, knowing smile. “No, you didn’t.”

She gets up and strides to the door, unlocking her phone and composing her reply–

“Hey.” He clears his throat. “If I need a job, would your firm have an opening?”  

She stops, thinking about how she could press her advantage, how she could promise him a job on a million conditions.

Hell with the games.

“I don’t do hiring myself,” she says, glancing back, “but we could always use a talented new partner.”

He smiles, tension melting away, and she hides her own too-giddy smile as she walks to the door.

Scott-Specter might just work after all.

 


End file.
